


and I will forever sing along

by elizaham8957



Series: Twelve Days of Stydia Christmas 2017 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Stiles and Lydia are neighbors, carolers, holiday fluff, meet cute, strangers AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 18:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: Arching an eyebrow, Lydia surveyed the group of carolers in front of her, unsure if they were kidding or not. They seemed genuine, though, their grins never wavering.“What the hell is a Stiles?” she asked, crossing her arms.





	and I will forever sing along

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 3rd day of Stydia Christmas everyone! I surprised even myself and wrote something genuinely short. And lemme tell you, it is HARD to just write a meet cute. It would probably take little to no convincing to make me write more in this universe. 
> 
> Anyways, the title is from Christmas Love, because say what you want, but Justin Bieber's Christmas album is actually pretty good, okay?
> 
> Enjoy!

There was  _ singing  _ outside Lydia’s door. 

At least, she thought it was outside her door. Not that that really made sense in the  _ slightest,  _ but it was loud. It  _ must  _ have been right outside her door. 

Now, the real question:  _ why  _ was there singing right outside her door?

_ It  _ is  _ Christmas time,  _ her brain immediately answered, but Lydia shook that off. It did sound like they were singing Christmas carols— she could just make out the tune of “Oh Christmas Tree.” But it wasn’t like there was a particular reason there would be carolers in her apartment building; it was mostly students and other young, working, twenty-somethings. Not exactly the crowd that carolers generally appealed to. 

Still, the singing didn’t seem to be stopping, so she stood up from the couch, leaving her dinner on the coffee table, and moved towards her door. 

_ Aren’t you supposed to give carolers food, or hot chocolate, or something?  _ she wondered.  _ Because I have none of that.  _ She didn’t even have a real Christmas tree in her apartment, just a little table top one she put out every year. These carolers had  _ really  _ picked the wrong place to serenade. 

Lydia’s jaw dropped when she pulled open her door, because there were at least eight people there, all in full historical garb, wearing fur-trimmed capes and top hats and hoop skirts, all their clothes made out of red and green and gold fabrics. They smiled widely at her while singing, finishing up their last song and switching to “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.” Lydia stood frozen, unsure what to do or how to react. 

The carolers paused after the song finished, smiles wide as they proclaimed, “Merry Christmas, Stiles!” 

Okay, now Lydia was just  _ confused.  _

Arching an eyebrow, she surveyed the group of people in front of her, unsure if they were kidding or not. They seemed genuine, though, their grins never wavering. 

“What the hell is a Stiles?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Me! That’s me. I’m a Stiles,” someone said, and Lydia turned, eyes locking on a guy practically sprinting down the hallway. “I mean, I  _ am  _ Stiles. That’s my name.” He skidded to a stop, arms still flailing a little bit. “I’m so sorry, my friend gave you guys the wrong apartment number. I’m the next one down.”

Lydia squinted at the guy, realizing that he did look relatively familiar. She never saw much of her neighbors in this building, but she recognized this guy’s chestnut hair, all spiked up in the front, and the plaid shirt he was wearing from their brief passings in the hall. His eyes skimmed over the group of carolers, like he was taking in every detail, before they froze on Lydia, widening a little bit. 

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but the carolers began singing again, “White Christmas” echoing down the hallway. Lydia stood, sort of frozen— was she allowed to go back inside, now that the guy the carolers were supposed to be serenading was here? Or was that still rude, because they were literally standing on her doorstep?

Most importantly, why the hell did this guy, who was easily her age, have carolers showing up for him in the first place? 

The group sang another couple songs, Lydia standing there awkwardly, eyes darting from the group of carolers to the guy in front of her. She’d never really  _ looked _ at him before, their only interactions prior to this being brief hellos in the hallways whenever they both happened to be there, which was rare. He was cute, she had to admit, despite his apparent lack of coordination. His nose turned up, and his jawline was sharp, dotted with moles. His fingers beat against his leg in time to the music, and Lydia had a feeling that this guy was physically incapable of ever standing still. 

Stiles thanked the carolers when they were done, smiling gratefully as they filed back down the hallway, wishing both him and Lydia a merry Christmas. Lydia forced herself to smile at them, still not exactly sure why she was still standing here. Soon the hall was empty, and it was just her and her neighbor, the silence between them deafening. All Lydia wanted to do was go back inside and finish her dinner and homework. Was that too much to ask? 

“I am  _ so  _ sorry about that,” Stiles said, finally breaking the silence. His eyes were wide and apologetic as he regarded Lydia. “My friend gave them the wrong apartment number. I didn’t mean to totally interrupt your night.” 

She shook her head slightly, eyes still fixed on him. “It’s fine,” she said. “I was just doing homework.”

“You’re a student?” Stiles asked, expression relaxing slightly.

Lydia shook her head. “No, PhD candidate.” She felt a small swell of pride at the flabbergasted look on his face, his amber eyes widening in shock. 

“Jesus Christ, okay,” Stiles said. “I didn’t know I was living next door to a  _ genius.”  _

Lydia shrugged, because he wasn’t wrong. She  _ was  _ a genius. “I do have to admit, though,” she started, arching an eyebrow at Stiles, “I am  _ extremely  _ curious as to why my neighbor had carolers coming to his apartment in the first place.” 

Stiles groaned, tipping his head back in aggravation, before looking at her straight-on again. “Okay, so I got in a  _ really  _ heated debate with my friend Scott over whether carolers are still a thing or not—” Lydia nodded, because she  _ did  _ remember a very loud, very passionate debate echoing through her walls a couple days ago. “So Scott decided to prove me wrong by sending  _ actual  _ carolers to my apartment, which I told him was completely unnecessary, but…” He broke off, shrugging slightly. “Here we are.” 

“That does seem marginally extreme,” Lydia agreed, narrowing her eyes. Stiles nodded enthusiastically, his hands flailing again. 

“Right?” he said, before rolling his eyes in acceptance. “It’s because generally I’m  _ always  _ right, so whenever Scott  _ is  _ actually right, he likes to make sure I don’t forget it.” 

“Very mature,” Lydia said, smirking. He shrugged, grinning in a sort of easy,  _ what-can-I-say  _ way. She liked his smile, Lydia decided. It was open and warm, a little lopsided in a way that was almost endearing. It reached his eyes too, those amber irises shining back at her in a way that made her heart speed up a little. 

“Anyways,” Stiles said, fingers tapping on his leg nervously again. “I, uh, don’t want to hold you up. I’m sorry again about… all this.” 

“It’s fine,” she assured him, shaking his apology off. He half-turned towards his door, but his eyes were still locked on hers. 

“I’m Stiles, by the way,” he said, and she could hear the question in his voice. 

“Lydia,” she supplied, smiling slightly at him. 

“Lydia,” he repeated, and her heart fluttered a little bit at how her name sounded on his lips. Which was  _ dumb,  _ she knew. This was just some random guy. She didn’t even know him. But the way he said it— something about it just felt different. 

“Well, merry Christmas, Lydia,” he said, smiling at her again, small and warm. “I’ll see you around.” 

He turned around, retreating back to his place, his door clicking shut behind him, echoing down the hallway. It wasn’t until he was gone that Lydia unfroze, slipping back into her apartment, hand braced against the door after it closed. 

_ I’ll see you around,  _ he had said, and she could picture his smile, soft and private, his eyes shining warmly, as his words played on loop in her head.

Smiling to herself, Lydia hoped that she would. 


End file.
